Take a Letter

Gentleman?
The night is flat black;
[Not a window is lit
In this sleepy little town].
To wit the wind

Through the white tree
In the otherwise dark forest,
Ipso facto from the power line
Hangs a threadbare hobo coat.

The typing of a dead playwright
In the outhouse with the crescent moon.
Please keep quiet, will ya?
I’m trying to hear the Big Bang.

“Do you want that in the letter?”
Who’s that voice? I asked.
Put everything on the penultimate.
I beg to remain omitted.
Regards.